


Ice Skating

by lunick



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, fluffier than a goddamn sheep, like really fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunick/pseuds/lunick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team goes ice skating (and Hanai doesn't know how).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Skating

Hanai doesn’t know how to ice skate.

Of course, Tajima is a natural, despite never having stepped foot on the ice himself (or so he claims, but there’s no goddamn way he can be that good without practicing somehow. Then again, this is Tajima we’re talking about here). Hanai can’t tell if that infuriates him or impresses him, but he’s going with the former.

Why does that guy have to be so damn good at everything?

The captain watches as the freckled boy slides and weaves between people and around curves with Mizutani like it’s nothing. He folds his arms over his chest, pressing his lips together in an embarrassed frown, thankful that the cold air is making his cheeks red anyway so Tajima can’t tell that he’s blushing. He feels so stupid—

“Hey, Hanai!” Tajima calls from a few yards away, dragging out the last syllable of his name. He sidles up next to him, using the wall as a method of breaking, and grins. He’s not even out of breath, and his cheeks are just a tiny bit red, but in a way that makes him look full of life. The captain swallows and then tugs down the top of his hat a bit so it covers the tops of his reddening ears.

“What is it, Tajima?”

“Why aren’t you ice skating!” He stamps his skated foot on the ground: it makes an unsatisfying thunk against the thick ice.

“Dunno how,” Hanai tries to say as nonchalantly as possible. I don’t know how, and I don’t care, and I don’t care that I’m losing to you at this too, and plus I’m okay with just watching you (no, he didn’t think that, he would never think something like that). He looks out over the ice over to where Mihashi and Abe are standing, Abe no doubt lecturing the pitcher on being careful not to fall and get his hand run over or something.

“Neither do I! It’s easy though!” Of course it is for you, you’re Tajima. Hanai resists the urge to roll his eyes and say exactly that when the clean up hitter suddenly grabs his hand. “Let me teach you!” He starts dragging the taller boy along the ice, and Hanai’s skates are working against him and letting him slide across the slick ice.

“No, Tajima— ! Stop—”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport! You’re gonna turn into Abe at this rate!” He says it with a pout, but then he laughs, a loud, boisterous laugh that is just so like him. It shows that he’s being earnest, with no malicious intent… of course. Tajima could never be malicious.

Hanai shakes his head furiously, his heart pounding in his ears, his face flushing brighter red from more than just the cold. “No, let go of me you dimwit—”

“Hmph! If you would just loosen up… it would be easy!”

The five hole batter grits his teeth. Tajima’s never going to give this up, so he might as well just give in and let him have what he wants. He’s so damn spoiled. So Hanai loosens up, or at least, he moves his feet in a way that makes it seem like he’s trying. And it isn’t that hard: he doesn’t fall, and he doesn’t slip, and the way his teammate’s hand feels wrapped around his makes a weird warmth go through his chest that really can’t be normal.

“See? It’s fun, Hanai!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, that feigned nonchalance still present in his voice. “How do you stop?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you know how to stop?”

“Just grab onto the wall! Like this!” Tajima suddenly jerks them to the side, making Hanai slip and he has to scramble to prevent falling all over his teammate, because that would certainly be a horribly embarrassing situation, though the one they’re in now isn’t much better with the way the clean up hitter is up against the wall with Hanai’s arms serving as a cage around him.

The taller boy swallows. “Sorry—”

“Bend your knees.”

“What?”

“Bend your knees!” He’s smiling, his nose wrinkling up just a little in a way that’s way too cute.

Hanai narrows his gaze, what exactly is Tajima getting at here? He knows it’s better to appease him than to fight it, so he bends his knees slightly, just to have the freckled boy push himself up and making their lips collide in a way that is totally messy and awful but also so unbelievably comforting that Hanai hates himself for liking it.

The smaller boy pulls away way too quickly, but once Hanai realizes what just happened, Tajima has already ducked under his arm, grinning and laughing so loud it might as well be bouncing off the walls. His fingers curl up against the wall, his face red as a tomato, his knees still slightly bent. Was Tajima just messing with him? What even was that? Did someone see? Oh god, if Mizutani or Abe saw, he’ll never hear the end of it—

“Oi, Azusa… ! I’ll race you!”

That breaks him from his stupor, and he whips his head around to see his teammate sticking his tongue out at him and waving his hands in the air. “Don’t call me that!” He says through gritted teeth before moving again.

He falls, and Tajima is right there to help him up.


End file.
